


For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight

by middlemarch



Category: A Discovery of Witches (TV), All Souls Trilogy - Deborah Harkness
Genre: Dreams, Dreamsharing, F/M, Insight, Intimacy, Late at Night, Occitan, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Vampires, Witches, addresses Matthew's consummation issues, during the six days in NY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 19:20:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20345362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlemarch/pseuds/middlemarch
Summary: He gave her everything he thought she could want. She wanted to know.





	For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight

Matthew did not sleep very much. Almost every night, Diana drifted off in his arms and woke to find him regarding her fondly, his body reflecting her own warmth back. There was a certain restraint about him even when they were most intimate; whether he laughed or urged her on, there was a part of himself he would not allow her to see. Or he would not allow himself to reveal. She was frustrated but it was a familiar feeling. He was a translation she hadn’t been able to decode, a paper whose conclusion eluded her. She knew she couldn’t despair but also that she could not force comprehension before time. She waited and slept, she meditated and she wondered. 

And one night she woke when he did not, some errant draught cool against her bare skin. There was moonlight, enough to see by, though it bleached the color from the rag rugs and Bishop quilts. She held up her hand in the light and it seemed ghostly, Ysabeau’s ring like a faerie talisman. Lifting her arm, she shifted against Matthew, expected to see his dark eyes watching her but he only tightened his arm around her.

“_Meu polida filha_, Diana, oh yes,” he murmured. She grew still but he didn’t open his eyes and his mouth was soft. He was dreaming. Dreaming of her. She pressed closer to him.

“Like that, let me touch you.” His voice was low, husky, direct. He sounded so much younger, eager, unworried. “Your skin’s like silk, rose-petals.”

Diana smiled. Matthew was a romantic, even his subconscious was tender.

“There, that’s right…you’re so warm, so delicious…I want, I want you so badly, _belesa_,” he went on, but his voice had altered. She heard his desire, unfettered, the raw carnality in his tone, in the tenseness of his body against hers. She moved and felt how he was hard against her, the realization making her flush, making her suddenly dizzy with her own hunger for him.

“Rajnighandha and jasmine, you want me, Diana, I smell it on you, you want me to make love to you,” Matthew went on. Was he oblivious to her gasp, how she arched up into him? Or was she changing his dream without entering it? There were spells to join dreamers, dangerous spells with great power; Sarah had spoken of them and Em. Diana had never known a witch to cast one like that, she’d never known the need—before tonight. Tonight, when Matthew’s voice broke as he caressed her with it, as he became impatient the way he’d never permitted himself to be when he was awake and aware.

“Now, don’t make me wait, spread your legs for me, let me, let me—_Deu!_ you’re wet, you’re so fucking beautiful, that’s right-- fuck, you’re gorgeous, oh, you’re mine, mine,” he muttered, his body rutting against hers, his face strained, blissful, vulnerable. Mateu, Matthieu, Matthew. Hers. She held her breath, feeling it fill her lungs, and let her hand graze his thigh. The touch was gentle, knowing, enough. He cried out, wordless now, spent and she felt it answer through her. His pleasure echoed in her body.

“Diana?” Matthew opened his eyes, drowsy as he’d never been, his smile sweet. She saw the man who’d become a vampire, the vampire who’d become a witch’s mate. One day, she’d see it all in the sunlight and he would know that she knew him.

“You were dreaming, Matthew. It’s all right, go back to sleep,” she said softly, resting her head against his scarred chest, feeling him settle back down. Contentment was like wine, like her blood was to him—intoxicating, irresistible.

**Author's Note:**

> So, an oblique approach to smut here, just to mix it up a little. Matthew definitely has lots of Vampire Ideas about intercourse that guides his conscious love-making but his unconscious mind is obviously less controlled.
> 
> Rajnighandha is tuberose, one of the most fragrant flowers.
> 
> Title is from Oscar Wilde.


End file.
